


cut the cord and pull some strings

by pennyfingers



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Harry is the Grim Reaper, M/M, actually the stupidest fic ever, except he isn't scary, louis nearly dies a lot (but doesn't actually die)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 08:27:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennyfingers/pseuds/pennyfingers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Harry? What – What are you doing here? I’m not dead,” Louis whisper-yells. “Wait, I’m not actually dead am I? Have I had a heart attack or something? A terminal disease that no one else knew about that’s suddenly killed me? Oh god, no I'm dead again, aren't I?” </em>
</p><p>[or rather: Harry is the master of Death and Louis keeps dying.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	cut the cord and pull some strings

**Author's Note:**

> I have other fanfiction at quitealotofhair.tumblr.com if you want to check it out and erm this fic is ridiculous so yeah... I'm not ashamed I promise. (I am.)
> 
> One day I might follow this up and put it in a series. Who knows. Don't rely on me for anything though. This is all non edited, all mistakes are my own etc. All the basics apply here as well (don't send this to anyone associated with the band, not that I think you would, just putting it out there) so yeah! 
> 
> title from Paper Doll by John Mayer

“No, there is no way,” Louis says. He looks down at his hands, his feet, examines his elbows and raises his hands to his face pinching and prodding until he feels sore and stupid. The stupid, lanky and intimidating figure in front of him doesn’t react. “No, look, no way.”

Death raises an eyebrow, shrugging. His body hunches over, as if to protect himself from the drizzle of rain that coated them, but his hair is entirely dry and when the rain touches him it seems to disappear or absolve into his skin. It was a bit unnerving, actually. “This is my job, Louis Tomlinson,” he says, and he almost sounds sorry, but also a bit bored. Louis wonders how often Death dealt with cases like him – kids who died too young for too stupid reasons.

He’d never claimed to be the brightest. His grades in school were average and sometimes only barely passing, but when he thought about dying he’d never though it would be because he’d gotten just a smidgen too reckless in a game of car chicken with Zayn, Liam and Niall.

It’s a lot to take in, that’s all. He’s never going to see Lottie again or kiss his Mum’s cheek and…well, he doesn’t even know what being dead meant. It’s just…a lot to take in. “What happens next then?” He asks, trying not to sound as sulky as he felt. Though he did have a good reason to be sulky; after all, these were his last few moments alive.

Death’s pouty mouth twists a little. “To be honest, I’m not quite sure.”

Not quite sure? That was ridiculous. Louis says as much. “So you’re telling me, that you _Death, the Grim Reaper_ –“

“Well no, I wouldn’t call myself the Grim Reaper –“

“ – doesn’t know what happens when someone _dies_?”

Death blinks back, looking faintly embarrassed. His cheeks were a light shade of pink. “I sort of got recruited before I could move on?” He shrugs his broad shoulders once more. Louis thinks it’s a stupid passive aggressive habit to have, shrugging that much.  It’s even more stupid because this _boy_ in front of him is supposed to be, like, this figure of all-encompassing doom and gloom but he sort of just looks a bit awkward, his shoulders totally hunched and eyes darting from the ground to Louis’ eyes every few seconds. 

Louis’ shoulders drop, and he assumes a defeated all suffering sort of posture that makes him look delightfully miserable. He aims for _pathetically brave_.

“Well, Death… can I call you something apart from Death? Maybe Grim? Actually no, both of those are pretty morbid,” Louis muses.

Death squints at him. “I guess…well, before I became Death, I used to be called Harry?”

“Harry!” Louis exclaims brightly, because when faced with the worst situations he tends to be at his best. Like the time when their first dog died and the girls were crying so hard that they had gone through nearly two tissue boxes and by the end of the night Louis was making them laugh so that they couldn’t breathe. It’s a quality of his that he embraces in times like these. Not that he plans on making Death laugh so much that he snorts, as Lottie did, though the sight would be more than mildly entertaining. “Harry, I think I’m ready to move on now.”

Louis flings his arms open, his smile straining with the force to keep it there. He might thrive when the going gets tough, but being dead means that from now on there is no _going_. He’s dead, deceased, passed on. That’s it – the final chapter. It’s all very daunting.

Harry bites at his lower lip, which is ridiculously full. Up until that point, Louis had being so distracted by the fact that he had got _hit by a bus playing chicken with his mates_ and hadn’t noticed how good looking the master of Death was. It was a bit unnerving actually.

“I’m technically not allowed to do this,” Harry states, shrugging once more in his passive aggressive manner. “But I’m going to let you off.”

“Let me off?” Louis repeats dumbly.

“Yes,” Harry says, his voice still languid and calm. There’s a glint in his eye though, one that Louis is used to seeing from other people. It’s a strange mixture of amusement and exasperation that only he can invoke. “You’re not dead anymore.”

“But you’re not allowed to do that!”

Harry, once more, shrugs. It’s starting to drive Louis’ head in. “Who cares,” He answers, winking. “I’m the master of Death.”

And with that he disappears and Louis wakes up in a hospital room.

 

 

  


Of course, Louis’ life is utter shit - and apparently the whole process of saving someone from death and its consequences is more elaborate than Harry had let on - so it happens that a few months later he’s sitting outside a pub by himself, smoking a cigarette he’d stolen from Zayn and Harry pops up in front of him.

All he really wanted was a few minutes of quiet from inside. Niall, Liam and Zayn were all very overwhelming since his near death experience – Louis figures it’s because they felt partly responsible and were the only people who actually witnessed him getting by the bus. He understands; it must be pretty traumatizing. If he was in their situation he would be just as, if not more, paranoid. But the lads, though only having the best of intentions, were starting to make Louis feel smothered.

He doesn’t even smoke really, which was why it is so strange for him to get the sudden desire to pop outside with a fag. He’s not sure if he’s glad of it now, with Harry’s lanky figure standing in front of him. 

“Hey Louis,” Harry greets, not acknowledging Louis’ less than manly shriek of surprise.

“Harry? What – What are you doing here? I’m not _dead_ ,” Louis whisper-yells, looking around to see if anyone else is in the secluded alley they’re in. Just as it was thirty seconds ago, there is no one else in sight, so Louis relaxes a little in relief before a thought hits him. “Wait, I’m not actually dead am I? Have I had a heart attack or something? A terminal disease that no one else knew about that’s suddenly killed me? Oh god, no, I’m dead again, aren’t I?” He asks, near hysterical, hands skittering down his body to check all his essentials are in place.  His hands, feet and cock are all there and that’s all that really matters on outside front. Seeing as there’s no way to check his internal organs Louis can’t really assess what’s going on in there but he feels fine; only his stomach is twisting with anxiety at the regretful look on Harry’s face.

Harry laughs a little, but it trails off quickly and falls a little flat. “You’re not dead,” He says, “But I did make a mistake.”

“Mistake?” Louis repeats, brow furrowing.

“Remember how I let you…not die?” Harry asks, and his hands wave around a little in the air as if trying to express what he means with his hands. Which is pretty much impossible. Harry doesn’t seem all that eloquent with his words.

Louis nods, and puts the cigarette between his lips which is more for something to do than to satisfy any desire. “Yes, of course. It was a life changing event.”

Harry smiles weakly. “Well, I really, _really_ wasn’t supposed to do that. And now, like…erm, the universe I guess… I’m not really sure what else to call it, but basically the spirit… no that’s not right, the erm… the universe, let’s just stick with that, is trying to put things right?” When he finishes bumbling over his words like a nervous school boy, he waits with his hand folded in front of him for Louis’ reaction.

Louis counts to ten in his head before answering. His pulse is beating erratically under his skin and he feels too hot and too cold all at once but he manages to keep his tone even when he replies. “What do you mean, _put things right_.”

Harry grimaces a little, hands swaying awkwardly by his sides. “For example, in about five minutes a group of eighteen year old boys will come around, see you smoking and try and get your cigarettes from you, with, erm, force. And then it’ll escalate into a bit of a brawl, cause you have a bit of a smart mouth, yeah, and you’ll get a knock to the head that will kill you.”

Louis doesn’t breathe for a while. “Awesome,” he says, exhaling all his air at once. “I didn’t realize you were a future teller, now as well.” He feels light headed and dizzy, can barely look at Harry without wanting to throw up. Maybe he should have just gone when Harry found him…it would have been a nice way to go; with his mates, doing what he loved, no added stress of knowing that he was going to die before he did.

“Not a future teller, more like… I see when people can die. Pretty morbid, eh? But, yeah, you’re not going to die tonight,” Harry finishes, his eyes meeting Louis. He looks intense for just a moment – in the shadows of the alley he seems almost impossibly tall, his jaw line sharper and eyes darker in a way that makes a shudder run through Louis’ body. Louis blinks and sees normal Harry again, lanky and awkward. 

“Not going to die, but you just said I was!” Louis points out, sounding remarkably exasperated for someone who’s talking to the Grim fucking Reaper.

The Grim Reaper himself smiles a little, a half one that only barely reaches his eyes but lights up his entire face in a way that’s different from what Louis’ seen before. It’s hard to be scared of – or even think about – his inevitable death when there’s a beautiful boy standing in front of him. “I’m going to break the rules again, obviously.”

Louis’ mouth falls open. “But _why_?”

Harry shrugs like the answer is obvious. (It really isn’t.) “You’re quite funny, and I like that.”

It’s a piss poor excuse for an answer, and Louis says as much, which earns him a playful shove to the shoulder. His ears go a bright pink as Harry’s hands linger over his biceps for more than is strictly necessary but he says nothing at all.

  


  


  


By the time the group of rowdy eighteen year olds, half drunk and the other antsy from drugs, turn the corner into the alley way, Louis and Harry are both long gone, a cigarette stamped out on the cement floor.

  


  


  


 Six months later and Louis has turned twenty-two, died eight times, and had separate near death experience around six times.  He’s starting to lose track.

Liam has berated him constantly over the course of the six months for his recklessness and he’s given his Mum enough panic attacks to last anyone a lifetime, but it’s not like he can say to them, _it’s not my fault guys, actually Harry – you might know him as the master of Death – saved my life so now the universe is trying to get back at me by killing me but for some reason Harry persists in keeping me alive. I assume he’s going through a stage of rebellion._

Louis does talk to Harry a lot now. He would consider them almost friends. It’s sort of an absurd life he lives, but he tries hard not to think too much on it.

When he gets home from work one lovely summers day, he finds Harry sprawled out over his bed, reading an old teenybopper magazine Lottie had left over from her last visit. “Don’t use the shower, you’ll knock your head and die,” he warns, waving a hand in the vague direction of Louis’ bathroom before flipping the page. “Did you know Justin Bieber got a new tattoo?”

“Is it really appropriate for such a fear inspiring person as yourself to be aware of Justin Bieber’s latest tattoos?” Louis asks tiredly, kicking his shoes off and falling back onto his bed. Work at the cafe had been ridiculously busy and customers were constantly demanding and rude, his Mum had called three times during the day to check on him and this was the fourth time this week Harry had appeared to prevent him from dying. It was a very stressful life to lead.  

Closing his eyes, Louis waits for his breathing to even out and his body to slowly relax. Rather than feel off put by the fact that Harry – _lord of Death_ , as he liked to remind himself whenever he felt a strong desire to kiss him – was lying in bed next to him, he felt comforted. At least he couldn’t die with Harry there.

“Ya right, Lou?” Harry murmurs, and it doesn’t even shock Louis with a hand starts carding through Louis’ hair. It was soothing and peaceful in a way he hadn’t felt for over six months.

“M’right,” Louis replies, his lips barely moving. He doesn’t want to break the moment, or the tranquillity that had settled between them so he stays still, not moving an inch. Harry’s fingertips massage into his scalp, making Louis sigh happily.

They’re quiet for at least twenty minutes and Louis drifts into a weird sort of in-between of being asleep and awake. Later, if he regrets this, he’ll blame it on his lack of consciousness, so he sucks in a breath before asking: “What’s it like being Death?”

Harry was quiet for a while, until so much time had passed that Louis thought he hadn’t heard the question. He was just about to repeat himself, or cry with embarrassment he hadn’t decided yet, when Harry answered.  He talked slow and without purpose as he did all the time but Louis found it comforting. “Lonely,” Harry started off with. “It’s lonely. I mean, there’s only one lord of Death, right? Not like I can have a travel buddy. I’m not the flipping Doctor,” Louis doesn’t even want to process the fact that Harry is referring to _Doctor Who_. “And it’s sad as well. I mean, I have to go to little girls and tell them that they’ve died and see them cry and ask for their Mum. It’s…it’s really awful, that part.”

“Can’t you save them?” Louis asked quietly. A vivid picture of his youngest sisters dead hit him hard in the chest and for a second he can’t breathe. “Save them, like you did me?”

He can feel rather than see Harry shake his head. “No, Lou. You were a moment of weakness for me and look where it’s ended up now. Nearly getting killed every time you go to take a piss.”

He doesn’t say it like it’s a bad thing that Louis was a moment of weakness. In fact, he says it almost fondly and Louis tries not to think about it too much and what that could mean. He opens his eyes into the green of Harry’s and it strikes him, as it does every time he’s with Harry, how stupidly attractive he is. Considering he’s supposed to be one of the most scary people of all time, he looked ridiculously cute sometimes.

“But I get you as a friend now!” Louis grins, trying to lighten the mood.  It doesn’t work, just makes Harry look even more sad.  

“One of your friends is Death,” Harry pout is ridiculous. “How lovely.” 

Louis sat up straight, a frown furrowing his face. “It is lovely, thank you. I like being around you, even if you are telling me of creative ways I could possibly die.”

Harry’s eyes dart from Louis to the roof, tilting his head a little to the right in a way that doesn’t have any reason to be endearing but is. “The universe is getting more and more creative,” He muses, seemingly more amused than anything else. It’s great that the topic of _Louis death_ has gotten so casual.

Louis smiles, his eyes crinkling and he knows he looks unbearably fond but can’t be bothered to care. “Y’know for the master of Death you really aren’t so intimidating.”

“I think I’m at least a seven out of ten on the scale of intimidation, actually,” Harry says primly, his ridiculously long limbs still sprawled out everywhere on Louis ratty old bed. “Well I could be. If I tried.”

Louis laughs patting Harry’s soft curls like he’s a kitten. Intimidating his _fine ass_. “Whatever you say, Haz.”

  

  


  


Twelve weeks and twenty death experiences later, Harry presses Louis up against the brick wall he was nearly splattered against mere moments ago by a rogue golf cart.

“I can’t even go golfing now,” Louis whines, his breathing coming a bit too quick as Harry crowds into his personal space.  He tries to ignore the large hands gripping at his hips, the curls brushing his forehead and the pure scent of Harry that he can’t seem to forget. “I don’t even like golfing I’m doing this for _Niall!_ Don’t I at least get karma points here, c’mon? All I want to do is play a game of bloody golf with my mates and the _universe_ thinks, oh yeah now’s a good time to off Louis, for fucks sake –“

“Louis,” Harry laughs, pulling back a little so he doesn’t go cross eyed. His curls are flopping in front of his green eyes and he looks like a silly, love struck high schooler or something and Louis’ stomach jolts violently. “Can you please shut up? I’m trying to kiss you.”

Any further words are silenced by Harry’s kiss. There’s a reasonable side to Louis that doesn’t speak up that often, which suggests the fact that he’s currently _hooking up_ with _Death_ is a little crazy, even for him, but the other part of Louis – the one that wants to bite Harry’s long neck – overrides. He grips at Harry’s shoulders a little tighter and opens his mouth just slightly more.

They don’t stop kissing for a very long time.

 

 

For some reason, after that, Louis stops dying. He even got dared to swallow a coin by Niall and didn’t choke or anything. He thinks that Harry might have sorted something out with the universe, considering he’s now Death’s boyfriend and having him die would now be even _more_ inconvenient for Harry.

Louis doesn’t really care what conversation took place. He has a hot (otherworldly) boyfriend, he can go hang out with his mates without worrying for his life, and things are good.

It’s relieving, to say the least.


End file.
